Words Never Said
by Vaughn's Jenn
Summary: ~:~ COMPLETE ~:~ CM February Challenge:: involves a Vaughn and Irina scene (no not THAT way!), a dream sequence, and oneof the Freudian defense mechanisms *Complete*


**Words Never Said**

_Cover Me February Challenge_

_"If music be the food of love, play on! Give me excess of it, that, sufeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die."_

_The soft strain of the music begins and she finds her arms supported loving by another's. His face is shrouded in the shadows, his strong hand rests on her back, gently guiding her steps._

_One -two-three-one-two-three_

_She hasn't been this relaxed in a long time, relaxtion comes over her like a veil hiding her very existence. And she feels that she likes it this way. No one can see her and this man, dancing together privately. _

_Safe._

_That is the word that comes to mind. _

_So, safe, she smiles at his and somehow knows that he smiles back. Happiness is complete for her now and she longs to see the face of the man who can give her this feeling. _

_So she draws him over to the light, reveling in the lightness she feels in her soul._

_And when she brings the light to his face, Irina Derevko sees that the man in her arms is her husband._

She opens her eyes, not startled or quickly, not matter-of-fact. As she always does. She is shaken but not visibly. She is tired, not but does not seem so. She is sad, but will be an immovable wall. Completely unreadable.

Yet she does not know that all walls fall down at a certain point. She does not realize that stone can last only for so long. 

~:~

The first thing that she feels when she sees her daughter's lovely face clouded in pain is surprise. Not because she ever doubted her daughter's emotional capacity but because she never expected to be allowed to see this raw emotion on anyone's face ever again. She knew she didn't deserve it.

Yet like some messege or gift from God, she was given this one moment in time when she was allowed to see the inner workings of a person. Yet this revelation, this epiphany, was soon forgotten once she regained her footing and realized that her daughter was crying. That her daughter was in pain.

"Sydney?" The words are soft, phrased as if it is a question though anyone hearing the word will know that it is a statement and a command, an acknowledgement of one's presence and then the order to continue. Yet this time it is different, softer perhaps in the way it is voiced. If one listens hard enough, it will become clear that there is a tinge of motherhood creeping in her tone; that this woman, after nearly thirty years, has finally been able to internalize some concept of family. Of love. Or perhaps she has always had it, always felt it and had disregarded it as a sign of weakness. 

Either way, she wants to hear the answer, needs to hear it of only so she can watch this young woman in front of her speak to her, so that she knows that she exists. As a person and not merely in name. 

The eyes staring back at her, the eyes that are so familiar, are filled with tears, tears that are threatening to brim over the delicate eyelids and splash down her porcelain cheeks. And that is when Irina Derevko suddenly feels as if the ground has broken up under her. Because though she does not know for sure what life-altering words are about to come out of this girl's mouth, she does. Deep inside her, the knowledge is beating, pounding, aching. She feels a sense of loss that she has never experienced before and it is now that she wishes that she was stupid. Unable to feel so acutely everything her body and mind go through.

"Mom, Dad's dead." 

The words are final, shattering any vision that there was left in her. A person that she thought was insignificant is now realized to be important, the most important. The essential. 

For once, she is not ready with a quick comeback nor is she ready to turn away and mourn. She realizes that she did love this man, does love this man still even though he had closed his heart to her long ago. Her life does not flash in front her eyes like a movie; rather sounds echo in her mind in short, rapid clips and she hears laughs and croon, moans that had echoed into the night, squeals of happiness at the sight of their daughter's first smile, word, step, shoes...

The earth is black, veiling everything in sight though she is aware that she is still looking, still staring at Sydney, this girl that she loves though she does not know, will never know, as much as she knew him. Her husband.

"What?"

The words are delayed, slow, incapable of depicting the sudden rush of dizziness that envelops her; she vaguely feels her muscles tense up, feels her thighs bunch, ready to give her support that she has needed for three decades.

And she feels a wetness on her cheek and when she wipes it away, discovers that it is a tear. Her mouth falls open, mouthing her shock and distress openly, for all to see. No one can say that she is cold, that she is emotionless, that she does not care for others anymore. 

She has shed a tear for Jack Bristow, the man who was her husband, the man who was loved far more that he ever believed he was. The man who had not been betrayed as he thought he had; the man who still had a presence and effect on womens' hearts. The man that she still loved. The man she never told.

The girl in front of her... Her lips are moving, so fast that it seems impossible that words can be coming out legibly. Her eyes water and it might be because she can't remember the last time she has blinked.

Time is moving so slowly, it is so magnified, she can feel each beat of her heart as one feels an earthquake, she can feel the slow flow of blood that circulates through her entire system, she can hear the slight quiver of her wind brushing past her ear. And then she laughs.

The woman on the other side of the glass is watching her with an incredulous look on her face because she did not expect such a reaction. But it is there, is it displayed for all to see and it is a sign of weakness, the sign of human weakness. The symbol of how love ruins a person, how love can make them steel themselves away only to fall apart when it is gone. 

She is not laughing anymore; she has slid to the ground and has erupted in soundless sobs, shaking in a sadness that she does not rememeber. It was not so hard to leave her family all those years ago but now she feels the hurt of being left. She is the one standing here all alone now with nobody to hold on to, she is the one who, looking at the beautiful waters of the sea surrounded by mountaintops and a sunny sky would want nothing more than to jump into it and never rise again.

She has never told him. She has never breached her stubborn heart nor as she ever seen any signs of him relenting his. She has never told him how sorry she is, how regret has ruined her life, ruined his life, ruin their lives.

No. He can't be dead. He can't be dead _because_ she never apologized. Because she never told him how much she loved him, how much she still loves him, how much he means to her. He's not dead because he hasn't accepted her apology, hasn't taken her hand in his and kissed it with the look of eternal love shining in his eyes, hasn't taken her in his arms and swayed gently with her against the soft strains of music and a background of a starry sky. 

There has to be another explanation. There has to be something else, some other person there... Something has to have gone wrong... this can't be the truth because so many things haven't happened that should have happened. That would have happened.

She looks up and is shocked to see her light reflection in the glass, she can see the sudden looseness of her face, the hollowness in her eyes, the lifeless posture of her entire body. She looks up and sees her daughter, this living embodiment of what was created out of their love. And she cannot help her tears because of all their love, of all their struggle, all that time was wasted. And the only thing that remains is this woman who is staring at her from the other side of a wall. A wall put up to protect her. She is not allowed to be around other people. She is too dangerous.

She ruins lives.

She turns away from her daughter, not willing to share this time with her, not willing to include her yet because there is no foundation for her to enter. She has to fix things with Jack first. She has to create a home.

She's backed up in the corner now, looking blankly at the walls that surround her and willing herself to believe in something impossible. He's not dead.

Footsteps approach and she knows it's a man because of the heaviness that sounds with each lift of the foot. Her heart leaps and she hastily wipes her eyes in anticipation; she has now felt the loss, she will not repeat her mistake. Should he come to her, she will apologize, will tell him the truth, will let him know how much if a subconscious factor he was in her decision to turn herself in. 

But the face she looks into is not her husbands though it is masculine in it's own right. Those eyes are green and that bone structure... Her mind is frazzled with dying hope but not so fuzzy to not remember this face. "Mr. Vaughn." Her words are light enough to surprise even him. They are lacking the ferocity he has become used to, the ferocity that he associated with his father's murderess. He now only sees a lost woman, a sight that he had never expected to find in Irina Derevko and, despite himself, he feels his heart reach out to her. 

"I'm sorry for you loss." The words, though still slightly clipped in resentment have a soothing feeling about them and Irina feels a burning shame inside of her and she looks down at the floor.

_I will be strong. Do not lose your head over this. I left him once, I can leave him again. _

_I'm not losing my head._

_But my heart._

"I have not lost anything."

The words surprise him to say the least. If anything, he had expected Derevko to be immediately accepting of the situation and perhaps even a little light. But completely disregarding what had happened...

"How can you say that?"

There is a part of him that is desperate to understand her, he wonders how her mind works, how she can say the things that she says, how she can make herself act in this way that no one can figure out. How any one person can possess so many layers.

She looks up at his question and answers clearly. "My husband is not dead."

But despite her hard words, he sees her eyes for the first time and sees the anguish in them. But she is not willing to let go, to lose anything. She has never lost anything before. His sympathy is dissapating and he does not know how long he will be able to stand here in front of her.

"Do you not understand the value of human life?"

She stares at him in disbelief. "I know more of its value that you will ever know. And I do not think you have any kind of foundation to support your claims."

Her words are scary in their steadiness.

"You killed my father."

"It was him or me. By letting him kill me, that would diminish my value for my own life would it not?" 

He cannot speak, his proverbial olive tree has withered and he can't stay there anymore. He has not even said what he has come to say. 

But isn't that the way that life works? Full of complicated endings and ends with no endings? So he leaves, gives up for the moment; everyone has given up, everyone has sunk. Except for her. She stands straight in her cell, looking as immaculate as ever, wanting to look perfect and strong for when he comes by to see her.

END


End file.
